


Safe

by cassandraoftroy



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Community: avengerkink, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:50:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandraoftroy/pseuds/cassandraoftroy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on Avengerkink. Natasha needs Steve to understand why she wants him to be rough with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt on Avengerkink:
> 
> "Steve is uncomfortable with his partner's desire to be dominated. Any female (genderswap more than welcome!), but please no Loki or Tony.
> 
> Bonus for her explaining why she's a sub in terms he understands.  
> Double bonus for him getting into it.  
> Triple bonus for his partner being Natasha."

She watched him pace the length of her bedroom twice, before sinking heavily onto the edge of the bed and scrubbing a hand through his hair. It seemed she'd miscalculated his response. _I thought he'd be confused, or even find it funny. I didn't expect him to be so... disturbed._ Maybe she should have; empathy and protectiveness were instinctive reactions for him, to a degree that continued to surprise her. She unfolded her legs, getting ready to crawl across the bed toward him, but paused when he spoke.

"Why would you ask for that? I mean," he sighed, "is that what you expect from me – what you think I want? I know things have changed a lot in seventy years, but that doesn't mean..." His broad shoulders slumped even further, and he stared at the floor. "I knew a lot of guys, growing up, who thought they could treat a dame however they wanted. I always told myself, if I was ever lucky enough to have a girl interested in me, I'd treat her with respect."

Something inside her twisted in response, and she reached out to touch his back. "I know that, Steve. That's not what this is. Look at me." She pulled at his shoulder until he turned around, raising his eyes to meet hers a little reluctantly. "It's not that I think you don't respect me, or don't see me as an equal. It's _because_ you do that I feel like I can ask you this."

"I don't understand," he protested. "I've read enough of your file to know there's a lot more they didn't show me. The things that were done to you. Why would you want more of that? Why would you want it from _me?"_

She took his hand from where it rested on the bed and held it in both of hers. "That's just it. Because it's you." Incomprehension lingered on his face, so she took a slow breath and continued. "In my work, and in my training, I've always had to deal with people who've wanted something from me, who didn't care how I felt about it, and who would do to me whatever suited them. For a long time, I was helpless, and afterward, I learned to constantly be on my guard, ready to defend myself, to take control of the situation."

Steve shook his head. "So why would you want me to treat you the same way?"

"Because it's _not_ the same," she told him. "That's what I'm trying to explain. You're not them. You could tie me to the bedposts, slap me around, tell me what a filthy slut I am, and then use me like one – and if I said 'stop,' you'd stop. I _know_ you would. You'd untie me, get me a blanket and a glass of water, and ask me if I was okay. It would never even occur to you to do anything else."

His blue eyes widened with surprise, but she saw the beginnings of understanding there as well. "I trust you, Steve. That's why I want to put myself completely in your hands, under your power: because I know I'll be safe there, and that's a novel and precious feeling for me. As the Black Widow, I have to be 'on' all the time, always on alert, in control. I want to give up that control to you, to savor the feeling of knowing you'll give it back if I ask for it."

He faced her fully on the bed now, leaning slightly forward, and reclaimed his hand from her grasp. When he spoke, his voice had gone low and husky. "You're telling me that this," he wrapped the fingers of his right hand around her throat, "makes you feel safe?"

For a moment, she gave in to the urge to tip her head back and expose her neck to the pressure of his hand. But only for a moment. "Steve, let me go."

He snatched his hand away as though she'd cut him. "I'm sorry! Are you all right? I didn't–"

She smiled and reached out to recapture his hand. "That's why it makes me feel safe."

It took him a moment, but an answering smile slowly tugged at his mouth. "Get over here." Without waiting for her to comply, he slid a hand around her waist and pulled her into his lap. He took her mouth in a kiss with more bruising force than his usual tenderly affectionate touches; she felt his fingers twine in the hair at the back of her head and clench into a fist, pulling sharply at the roots. She all but melted under his touch.

Taking her pliant response as encouragement, he shifted position, laying her out on the bed beneath him. He brought both her hands up above her head and held them in place with his left hand trapping both wrists. His right hand wandered her body, touching and groping as it went. The weight of his body settled over her, pressing her into the mattress. "You want me in control?" he growled against her ear, before seizing the earlobe in his teeth. "Good, because that's what you've got."


End file.
